


So Hot / Hot Damn!

by charleybradburies



Series: Melinda May Week 2015 [5]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Awkwardness, Bickering, Bikinis, Black Male Character, Canon Character of Color, Canon Het Relationship, Community: 1_million_words, Drinking, Exes, F/M, Female Character of Color, Female-Centric, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Idiots in Love, Love, Love Triangles, Lovers to Friends, Male Character of Color, Male-Female Friendship, Melinda May Appreciation Week, Memories, Mutual Pining, POV Female Character, Partners to Lovers, Partnership, Past Relationship(s), Pining, Post-Season/Series 02, Protective Melinda May, Protective Phil Coulson, Protectiveness, References to Canon, Season/Series 02, Season/Series 02 Spoilers, Skype, Spies & Secret Agents, Team Dynamics, Team Feels, Team as Family, Teasing, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-04-05 06:04:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4168758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charleybradburies/pseuds/charleybradburies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just because Melinda's on vacation with her ex-husband doesn't mean she's unreachable.</p><p><b>Melinda May Appreciation Week Day 5: Favorite Outfit(s) and/or Hair)</b><br/>+ 1-million-words June Bingo: Schmoop/Love 5x5 #1: Crushing on Your BFF</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Hot / Hot Damn!

**Author's Note:**

> So many outfits I wanted to choose, but that packing scene in the finale got me thinking a lot of things...so even though we haven't actually seen her in the bikini, I ran with it. Take it as...Phil's favorite, maybe? IDK. I just wanted to write the thing and I did.
> 
>  
> 
> I've refrained from using Uptown Funk lyrics for titles for so long...but alas, that time has ended.

This isn’t exactly the _most_ comfortable lounge chair she’s ever sat in, but it’ll have to do.

Melinda spreads a towel out over the seat in hopes of lessening the chance that the plastic sections will bore into her; Andrew calls out from inside the pool house, already hastening on something - probably a margarita - at the bar.

“You want something, Melinda?”

“I have the feeling you can guess,” she calls back, her voice escaping her with a gentle laugh, the kind that only few people know exists. He chuckles, and she turns her attention back to scooting onto the lounge chair. The laptop tray sits practically in her lap, which is really where she needs it, even though she thinks the circumstances - well, the view, at least - will be unexpected. 

She fiddles with her red swimsuit while she waits for her laptop to fully turn on, wondering how she, as a younger agent, had managed to fight people while wearing such little fabric. She probably hadn’t thought it _was_ that little, though, in the early days; she’d been so much younger, and besides, she’d had a wonderful husband, and a fiercely loyal partner who never became disrespectful or incapable of doing his job no matter how much... _want_ his eyes betrayed him by admitting. Having nowhere in a teensy bikini to stash a gun could be an occupational hazard, but when it was the two of them it was easily managed; in retrospect the sheer number of missions that had involved her being dressed in some mobility-limiting manner had most likely been a breeding ground for her habit of stealing other peoples’ guns when she needed one.

Now _Phil’s,_ she's never _had_ to steal. She’s only ever had to look at him - as long as the request is conveyed, the need is answered. 

Her Skype app pops open without her doing a thing; it’s precisely the time they’d agreed to talk, and a video call is already coming in. 

“Someone’s excited,” she teases him as the feed buffers.

“Well, it _has_ been an entire fortnight since I’ve seen you. Do you blame me?”

She laughs, mouthing 'fortnight' mockingly; both Phil, and Andrew when he comes out a moment later, drink in hand, are smiling cordially. Andrew gingerly hands her the strawberry daiquiri.

“Really _couldn’t_ stay away, could you?” he asks teasingly once he’s sure enough of her grasp on the glass to let go.

“These are our _personal_ Skype accounts; this has nothing to do with SHIELD.”

“I wasn’t talking about _SHIELD,_ ” he replies, but doesn’t allow her the chance to even send him a disapproving look before he leans into her webcam’s field of vision and waves. 

“I’d offer to get you a drink too, Agent Coulson, but well, you can imagine how badly that would go.”

Melinda raises her eyebrows and takes a sip of her drink as the two men share a laugh.

“Always good to see you, Dr Garner.”

“ _I’m_ on vacation right now. Call me Andrew,” he says with another wave, and then excuses himself and returns inside, this time actually closing the door to the pool house behind himself.

“Didn’t know you still had that,” Phil says, gesturing up and down Melinda's form, and she’s _almost_ surprised at how _not_ surprised she is that he remembers the bathing suit.

He _did_ have reason to remember it well, after all…and he still had that very same look. What Skye had taken to calling “heart eyes,” that longing they both had and both avoided talking about. Melinda would like to think that having clear boundaries would make things better, would make them less on edge about things of romantic natures, but she knows that it really wouldn’t. She's barely brought it up before and she isn't going to mention it now, especially not when Phil was looking at her like doing so was all the vacation _he_ needed. 

Besides, just declaring that they were making boundaries clear wouldn’t actually _make_ them clear, not even if they scrapped everything they’d done and owned and cared about. Their lives had been interwoven for too long. 

She recalls the bikini's purchase quite well still; she’d bought it on a mission, with his cover’s - her cover’s husband’s - credit card. She’d called Andrew, her own actual husband, from the hotel room, describing the contents of photos he’d had yet to see, and yet neglected to tell him that the fact that corporate hadn’t sprung for a suite meant that she and Phil were sharing a room.

Phil had come out of the shower while she was giving Andrew as much detail about the day’s events as she could, giggling and not even trying to pretend her heart was fluttering, and she’d just raised a finger to alert Phil that he should indeed remain quiet.

“Lots of things we don’t know about each other anymore,” she says softly, and they both take pause.

“How is she?” Melinda asks. 

“Thought you said this wasn’t about SHIELD.”

“It’s not. It’s about _Skye._ You know as well as I do that neither of us have purely agent-to-agent relationships with her.” 

Phil doesn’t say anything on the matter, because he already expected the answer; she does know that much.

“She’s…okay. Probably handling things better than I am, but still a little shaken up, as is warranted. For the record, _all_ your ducklings are fine. It’s a little emptier round here, but not that much quieter, so none of them have cried about it yet, at least that I know about. I’m sure they’d say hi if they knew I was talking to you,” he smirks, reaching out of frame to grab a half-finished bottle of beer.

Melinda rolls her eyes.

“Oh, shut up,” she grumbles good-naturedly, and the slight widening of his smirk is the only visible sign that he even hears her.

“So, how are things there? I see you’re working on a totally unnecessary tan.”

“Believe it or not, I do still enjoy sunbathing.”

“Good to know,” Phil chuckles, downing another long sip of beer, and Melinda pretends to scoff. 

Phil’s cell phone rings; he grimaces and picks it up, and they both groan. He leaves his dining room table to answer, and Melinda makes herself tune out what little she does hear in favor of whatever movie it is that Andrew’s started watching, which is obviously an action - or, just as likely, sci-fi - movie, because she can hear high-pitched yelling and inappropriately timed gunfire. 

Phil returns to the table with an unhappy look, and she doesn’t even have to ask before she wishes him well on whatever he’s been called back in to do.

“Evil never sleeps, right? Starting to wish that I’d taken more time off. Rented the place next to Andrew’s, done some yardwork so I could stand at the fence and say ‘hidey-ho, neighbor’ like the guy on Home Improvement.”

“Can you even _do_ yard work right now?”

“…No. But the idea stands.”

Melinda laughs, but her expression grows a bit more solemn after a moment. 

“Remind her I have faith in her, okay? Please?” 

Phil nods.

“Your wish is…technically not my command, but I will do it anyway.”

“Um, objection!”

“Overruled. Go, get some Vitamin D and that unnecessary tan, see whether you can avoid tan lines half as well as you used to. I’ve got this end covered. Take care of yourself, Melinda.”

“You too, Phil.”

She leaves the Skype app often for a couple minutes after he signs off, then closes her laptop and gulps down her drink.


End file.
